Neurotic
by FourthRider
Summary: Saint Jimmy's thoughts as he watches Johnny and Whatsername. Slash, SaintJesus. And I can't say that name without laughing. M to be safe


If there was one word I could use to describe Johnny when I first met him it would be neurotic. Completely neurotic. Every little action, the way he was always breathing heavily, how he would jitter and jolt, completely excited, raging and thrashing and at the same time, bored. He was bursting with unused energy from lazing around with a bottle. Johnny completely burned with a passion for something! He just didn't know what yet.

I took him as an easy ploy. A bored suburban kid looking for excitement. Johnny could be an easy score. I missed the fire in his eyes, the want, no, the need for some undiscovered prophecy. As I watched Johnny lose himself in my endless supply of drugs, I realized that he was something more than my other minions. Johnny wasn't just another loser. He might be my ticket out of this hell hole.

And then she came. Whatsername. She'd been here as long as my blurry memory could see. Everyone seemed to fall over the bitch in the corner. But not ole' Saint Jimmy. Maybe just cause I couldn't physically possess feelings for a woman. Just sayin'. Johnny got lost in her. Her rude girl, standing alone, always alone, quiet beauty. And Whatsername actually thought he was worth her time. That makes me laugh. She's a rebel, she's a saint. Oh, ha ha. Sounds more like me than her. Could she be Johnny's savior? Bring him to some higher power or standard? Give him meaning?

I watched the two of them fooling around from her balcony. The dirty, broken shades covering her window thought that they kept wandering eyes out. Nope. You can't control Saint Jimmy. I wish it was me in his arms. Touching, exploring, and kissing. Johnny was the only person I'd ever had real feelings for. But Whatsername seemed to think the same thing.

Eventually, after hours of Whatsername moaning like a cheap whore he'd picked up at seven eleven, they slept. She fell asleep quickly, but as he got up to piss, I knocked. A hazy, boxer-clad (and incredibly adorable) Johnny answered.

"Hey." I smiled, with a light toss of my jet black locks, and held up a small bag of cocaine. "Wanna?" I asked him, so hopefully it seemed as if the great Saint Jimmy begged. Johnny shook his sweet brown head.

"Sorry dude, I'm kind of busy… for the rest of my life."

Cold, Johnny cakes. Cold. Fuckin' icy. Shoving the bag in my pocket, I ask "So, you really like her, huh?" Hoping I don't betray too much of my jealousy.

"She's incredible. Everything I ever wanted."

These words shatter my drug ridden heart.  
>"It's like, finding something worth it in all this crap, y'know?"<p>

It was then I kissed him.

Maybe it was the little evil glint in his eye when he mentioned something dirty, or his stoner, dreaming eyes. Not the normal high. With him, it was a gaze nothing short of beautiful. It could be how his hips twitched when he got excited, or his eyes, which, to name a cliché romance novel phrase, I could get lost in.

But he was everything I wanted. Like some sort of angel, if I believed in that shit, meant to break me free from this hell.

Or a cruel joke from fate, meant to taunt me. The one thing I couldn't have.  
>But right now, he was locked in my embrace. His lips were everything and more than my fantasies. Maybe this is love? I've always known I was gay. It's been obvious since I was a kid. But Saint Jimmy was only a joke. He was a waste of a body and mind. Making a few bucks off everyone's natural insecurities. Giving them a blanket of 'you belong, come waste your future! ' I only have so much... And yet... what am I doing?<p>

I slide my pale, calloused fingers around his neck and find his arms around my waist. I pull back, pressing my forehead to his with a sigh. "Go." I whisper, releasing him.

Johnny let go, confused, and turns toward the door. It hurt like a shot to the groin. But it was better for him, anyways.

I sighed, and he turned back to look at me. "Go!" I urge him. His happiness (and girl in his bed) mean more to me then any amount of coke in this goddamn city.

He sat down on the mattress, next to Whatsername. His Whatsername.  
>"I love you…" I whisper to the dirty, city air.,Sucking in a breath of lost hopes and dreams.<p>

Johnny looks up, as if he might have heard, and then reaches for an acoustic guitar lying next to him. "Are you asleep?" I could hear him ask.

"Good. 'Cause I wrote this for you."

I sat there all night, listening to him serenade her. Maybe, if I pretend he was singing to me, everything would be okay.

"So tell me whe-eh-eh-en it's ti-ime to say I love you.."


End file.
